Three hours later, after Harry had spent what could only be described as the most blissfully normal afternoon of his cosmically enhanced existence—feeding Teddy (who had opinions about strained peas and wasn't shy about expressing them through interpretive hair-color changes), playing peek-a-boo (which resulted in minor reality fluctuations that made the nursery wallpaper briefly achieve sentience), and discovering that his godson possessed an alarming talent for making toys levitate when he giggled—they returned to the Burrow to find two very familiar figures seated at the kitchen table.
Kingsley Shacklebolt looked exactly as Harry remembered: tall, dignified, radiating the kind of calm authority that had made him the obvious choice for Minister in the aftermath of magical Britain's governmental collapse. His deep voice carried the same steady warmth that had guided the Order through its darkest moments, though Harry's enhanced senses detected new layers of exhaustion and responsibility that came with trying to rebuild an entire civilization while managing the political aftermath of a devastating war.
Beside him sat Percy Weasley, looking considerably less rigid than Harry remembered from their last proper conversation—which, admittedly, had been during the Battle of Hogwarts when Percy had been too busy hexing Death Eaters to maintain his usual bureaucratic composure. His hair was still perfectly groomed, his robes still pressed to military precision, but there was something softer around his eyes that spoke to hard-won wisdom and family reconciliation.
"Minister Shacklebolt," Harry said with genuine warmth, settling carefully into a chair that creaked ominously under his enhanced weight and density. "Good to see you again. Though I have to admit, I'm impressed you managed to survive a month in office without developing a drinking problem or attempting to flee the country under an assumed identity."
Kingsley's laugh carried the particular quality of someone who had considered both options extensively. "The day is young, Harry. Though I must say, your absence has certainly made my job more... interesting. Nothing quite like having half the Auror department ask whether they should be searching for a missing national hero or preparing for the possible return of an enhanced individual with reality-altering capabilities."
"Reality-altering capabilities?" Harry raised an eyebrow with the expression of someone who had been hoping this particular aspect of his cosmic education might remain confidential for a bit longer. "That's a very specific phrase, Minister. Almost as if you've been receiving detailed reports from someone with advanced theoretical training in magical physics."
"Auror Jenkins has been very... thorough in his observations," Percy interjected with the diplomatic precision of someone who had spent considerable time translating bureaucratic language into human conversation. "Though I believe his exact phrase was 'reality looking unstable around the edges,' which isn't technically an official designation for any recognized magical phenomenon."
"Comforting," Harry said dryly. "Always nice to know that my personal development is being monitored by professionals who can't quite categorize what they're witnessing."
Hermione looked up from her spot beside Ron with the expression she always got when academic curiosity collided with protective instincts regarding her friends. "Exactly how much has the Ministry been watching us?"
"Standard post-crisis monitoring protocols," Kingsley said with the careful tone of someone who understood that his answer was going to determine whether this conversation remained friendly or devolved into accusations of government surveillance overreach. "After Harry's... dramatic disappearance... we maintained discrete observation of locations where he might reappear. The Burrow, Grimmauld Place, Hogwarts. Not surveillance, exactly. More like... concerned monitoring."
"Concerned monitoring," Ron repeated with the flat incredulity of someone who had grown up with government officials and understood exactly how creative they could be with euphemisms. "Right. And I suppose the fact that you knew exactly when Harry visited Andromeda and what happened while he was there was just a fortunate coincidence?"
"Ron," Arthur said mildly, though his expression suggested he was equally interested in the answer, "perhaps we could let the Minister explain before we start questioning his motives?"
"No, Arthur, it's a fair question," Kingsley replied with the kind of straightforward honesty that had made him effective during the war. "Yes, we've been monitoring locations associated with Harry Potter. Yes, we received detailed reports about yesterday's activities. And yes, those reports contained information that raised questions about Harry's current... capabilities."
He turned to Harry directly, his expression serious but warm. "Which is why I'm here, Harry. Not as Minister conducting an official investigation, but as someone who fought alongside you, who knows your character, and who wants to make sure you're all right."
Harry studied him for a moment with those cosmic-enhanced green eyes, then smiled with genuine appreciation. "I can work with that. Though I should probably warn you that the conversation you're about to have is going to challenge some fundamental assumptions about magical theory, human limitations, and the nature of reality itself."
"I've been Minister of Magic for a month now, Harry. My fundamental assumptions about reality were thoroughly challenged before my first week in office." Kingsley's smile was wry. "Besides, after everything we've been through, I think we can handle a conversation about enhanced abilities and cosmic education."
"Cosmic education?" Percy blinked, his quill pausing over the parchment where he'd been taking what appeared to be official notes. "Is that... is that a literal description or a metaphorical reference to advanced magical training?"
"Completely literal," Harry replied cheerfully. "Turns out the Potter family tree has some interesting branches that nobody bothered to mention. Branches that involve alien heritage, genetic activation protocols, and a month-long educational experience in interdimensional reality management."
The kitchen fell silent except for the gentle bubbling of Molly's perpetually active stew pot and the distant sound of garden gnomes engaged in what appeared to be a heated debate about collective bargaining rights.
"Alien heritage," Percy said slowly, his bureaucratic training apparently struggling to find appropriate categorization frameworks for this information. "As in... extraterrestrial origins? Non-terrestrial species classification? Interplanetary diplomatic considerations?"
"As in my great-great-several-times-great-grandfather was a refugee from a highly advanced civilization that died out while he was busy falling in love with a witch and starting a family," Harry explained with the casual tone of someone discussing the weather rather than revelations that would probably require revisions to multiple international magical treaties.
Kingsley was very still for a moment, his Auror training clearly engaged in rapid threat assessment calculations that were being complicated by the fact that the potential threat was someone he trusted completely and who was currently holding a six-month-old baby with obvious competence and affection.
"Harry," he said carefully, "when you say 'highly advanced civilization,' exactly what level of advancement are we discussing?"
Harry's grin was pure mischief wrapped in cosmic confidence. "The level where space travel is a weekend hobby, energy manipulation is basic education, and the ability to fly faster than sound is considered entry-level physical fitness."
"And you've... inherited these capabilities?"
"Enhanced, integrated, and upgraded to work with terrestrial magic," Harry confirmed. "Turns out the combination of Kryptonian genetics and wizarding magical cores creates some very interesting synergistic effects."
"Kryptonian," Percy repeated with the tone of someone filing away information for later extensive research. "Is that the name of your ancestor's species, or the planet they came from?"
"Both, actually. Very logical naming convention. Much more straightforward than Earth's approach of naming planets after Roman gods and hoping for the best."
Percy's quill was now moving frantically across his parchment, apparently attempting to document revelations that were going to require entirely new categories in the Ministry's filing system. "Right, so we're dealing with enhanced physical capabilities, energy manipulation, possible flight abilities, and integration with existing magical frameworks. From a bureaucratic standpoint, this raises questions about citizenship status, legal precedent for non-human heritage classification, and—"
"Percy," Harry interrupted gently, "I'm still Harry Potter. Still British, still a wizard, still the same person who helped save the wizarding world from Voldemort. The only difference is that now I can bench-press a dragon and accidentally make gravity forget how to work properly when I get emotional."
"You can bench-press a dragon?" Ron asked with the fascination of someone who had always harbored secret professional curiosity about dragon-wrestling.
"Haven't tested it specifically," Harry admitted, "but given that I accidentally punched through a mountain during a training simulation, I'm reasonably confident about my strength levels."
"You punched through a mountain?" Kingsley's voice climbed slightly.
"Small mountain," Harry clarified. "More of a large hill, really. And I fixed it afterward! Better than new, actually. Improved the local drainage and everything."
Ginny reached over and patted his arm with the affection of someone who had accepted that her boyfriend's hobby of casual geological modification was simply part of the package. "He's very thorough about cleaning up after his training accidents."
"Training accidents," Percy muttered, making additional notes. "Right. So we're dealing with someone who requires specialized training to avoid accidentally reshaping the landscape."
"Everyone requires specialized training for their abilities, Percy," Harry pointed out reasonably. "The difference is that most wizards learn not to accidentally transfigure their furniture, and I had to learn not to accidentally create new valleys when I stub my toe on something."
"That's... a fair point," Percy conceded, though he was still writing frantically. "Though it does raise questions about liability insurance and property damage protocols."
"Which brings us to why I'm here," Kingsley said, his expression turning more serious. "Harry, what are your plans? I mean, long-term plans. Because while I personally have complete confidence in your judgment and character, there are people in the international magical community who are going to be very concerned about an individual with your demonstrated capabilities operating without official oversight."
Harry's expression shifted, cosmic confidence giving way to something that was still confident but considerably more pointed. "Minister, let me be very clear about something. I spent the first seventeen years of my life having other people make decisions about what Harry Potter should do, where Harry Potter should go, and how Harry Potter should live his life."
His voice carried an edge that made the air around him shimmer slightly, though Teddy seemed to find this entirely normal and continued playing happily with a toy that was now glowing faintly in response to Harry's emotional state.
"Dumbledore decided I should grow up ignorant of the magical world, then thrust into it without proper preparation. He decided I should face increasingly dangerous situations with minimal support because it would build character. He decided I should sacrifice myself to save everyone else, and made sure I had just enough information to make that choice but not enough to question whether there might be alternatives."
The kitchen had gone very quiet. Even the perpetually bubbling stew seemed to have paused in respectful attention.
"I've spent a month thinking about this," Harry continued, his voice steady but carrying the weight of hard-won understanding. "About how much of my life was shaped by other people's decisions about what would be best for everyone else. And I've come to some conclusions that the wizarding world probably isn't going to like."
"Such as?" Kingsley asked quietly.
"Such as the fact that I'm done being the Boy Who Lived," Harry said with absolute finality. "Done being the Chosen One, done being the symbol of hope and sacrifice, done having my life planned out by people who think they know better than I do about what's good for me."
Percy winced slightly. "Actually, Harry, there's something you should know about that. The Prophet's been calling you something new since word got out about your... return."
"Please tell me it's something dignified like 'The Returned Hero' or 'The Enhanced Wizard,'" Harry said with the tone of someone who already suspected he was going to be disappointed.
"The Man Who Conquered," Percy said apologetically.
Harry closed his eyes and made a sound like someone had just informed him that he'd been selected for a lifetime of uncomfortable formal events and poorly fitting ceremonial robes. "The Man Who Conquered. Of course. Because 'The Boy Who Lived' wasn't dramatic enough. Now I'm apparently some sort of cosmic warlord with territorial ambitions."
"The Prophet's headline writers have never been known for subtlety," Kingsley said diplomatically.
"Minister," Harry said, opening his eyes and fixing Kingsley with a look that suggested he was about to deliver news that would require significant adjustments to multiple governmental policies, "I need you to understand something. I have no interest in conquering anything. I have no interest in leading magical Britain, reforming wizarding society, or serving as anyone's symbol of anything."
"What do you want, Harry?" Arthur asked gently.
Harry's expression softened as he looked down at Teddy, who was now making the air around his toy sparkle with tiny lights in response to the adults' conversation. "I want to raise my godson. I want to travel with my friends. I want to use these new abilities to help people without having every decision I make turned into a political statement or a symbol of some larger movement."
He looked around the table, meeting each person's eyes in turn. "I want to live my own life, make my own choices, and be judged on my own actions rather than on what other people think Harry Potter should represent."
"That's... actually quite reasonable," Percy said, sounding slightly surprised by this revelation.
"Percy, you sound shocked that I want to be treated like a human being instead of a political symbol," Harry observed with dry humor.
"Not shocked, exactly. Just... impressed. Most people with your level of public recognition and enhanced capabilities would be tempted to leverage that into some form of authority or influence."
Harry's smile was sharp and entirely lacking in humor. "Most people didn't spend their childhood being manipulated by someone they trusted completely, who turned out to be planning their death from the moment they met."
The silence that followed this statement was heavy with implications that everyone was still processing.
"Harry," Hermione said carefully, "what exactly did you discover about Dumbledore's plans?"
Harry sighed, running his hand through hair that caught the kitchen light in ways that shouldn't have been possible with normal human biology. "I had a lot of time to think during my cosmic education. Time to review memories, analyze decisions, look at patterns of behavior that I was too young and too trusting to question at the time."
"And?" Ron prompted.
"And I realized that Dumbledore knew from the moment Voldemort marked me that I would eventually have to die," Harry said quietly. "Not just suspected it, not just feared it might be necessary. Knew it. Planned for it. Shaped my entire childhood around making sure I would be psychologically prepared to make that sacrifice when the time came."
Arthur's face had gone pale. "Harry, surely you don't mean—"
"I mean exactly what I'm saying, Mr. Weasley. Dumbledore knew the Dursleys were abusive. He knew they would make me grateful for any scrap of kindness from the magical world. He knew that isolating me from magical education and normal social development would make me more dependent on his guidance and more willing to accept dangerous missions without question."
Harry's voice was steady, but there was pain underneath it that made even Kingsley wince.
"Every choice he made about my life was calculated to produce a young man who would walk into the Forbidden Forest and die for the greater good. And it worked, didn't it? When the moment came, I went exactly where he'd spent years conditioning me to go."
"But you survived," Ginny said fiercely. "You came back."
"Because of pure luck and circumstances Dumbledore couldn't have predicted," Harry replied. "Not because he planned for me to survive. He planned for me to die heroically, and he spent seventeen years making sure I would."
The kitchen was so quiet that the sound of Teddy's happy babbling seemed unnaturally loud, a reminder of innocence in the middle of a conversation about manipulation and sacrifice.
"Harry," Kingsley said slowly, "are you suggesting that Dumbledore deliberately orchestrated your childhood trauma as part of some larger strategy?"
"I'm not suggesting it, Minister. I'm stating it as fact." Harry's eyes briefly flared with golden light, though his voice remained calm. "The blood protection could have been maintained in any number of ways that didn't involve leaving me with people who locked me in cupboards and starved me for asking questions. The Horcrux could have been dealt with through methods that didn't require my death, if he'd been willing to research alternatives instead of accepting the first solution that fit his narrative about noble sacrifice."
"But the war—" Percy began.
"The war was won by people working together, taking risks for each other, and refusing to accept that some lives are acceptable losses," Harry cut him off. "The war was won despite Dumbledore's manipulations, not because of them."
Ron was staring at Harry with the expression of someone whose worldview was being fundamentally reorganized without permission. "You're saying Dumbledore... used you."
"I'm saying Dumbledore treated me like a weapon to be shaped rather than a person to be protected," Harry confirmed. "And I'm saying that experience taught me something very important about trusting people who claim to know what's best for everyone else."
Kingsley absorbed this information with the careful expression of someone whose job required him to evaluate threats to political stability while maintaining diplomatic relationships with potentially volatile individuals who possessed reality-altering abilities.
"Harry," he said carefully, "I understand your concerns about autonomy and manipulation. But surely you recognize that your enhanced capabilities create certain... responsibilities?"
Harry's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Minister, let me save us both some time by addressing what you're really asking. Yes, I have abilities that could theoretically be used to reshape governments, rewrite laws, or impose my will on the magical world through force. No, I have absolutely no intention of doing any of those things."
"And how can we be certain of that?"
The question came from Percy, though he looked immediately as though he regretted asking it.
Harry turned to look at him with an expression that somehow managed to be both patient and incredibly dangerous. "Percy, how can anyone be certain of anything? How can you be certain that tomorrow you won't decide to use your access to classified Ministry information for personal gain? How can Minister Shacklebolt be certain that his Aurors won't abuse their authority? How can any of us be certain that the people we trust won't betray that trust?"
"That's not really an answer," Percy said quietly.
"It's the only answer that matters," Harry replied. "You can't control what I might do with my abilities, Percy. You can't contain them, regulate them, or legislate them out of existence. What you can do is treat me like a person who's earned the right to make his own choices, and hope that the character I've demonstrated over the past seven years is a better predictor of my future behavior than whatever worst-case scenarios your imagination can produce."
Kingsley leaned back in his chair, studying Harry with the expression of someone trying to solve a puzzle that didn't quite fit any known categories.
"What do you want from us, Harry?" he asked finally.
"I want you to let me live my life," Harry said simply. "I want to take my godson to America next week to visit family and handle some personal business. I want to travel with my friends without having Aurors following us around documenting our activities for official reports. I want to use my abilities to help people without having every action analyzed for its political implications."
"And in return?"
Harry's grin was pure confidence wrapped in cosmic power. "In return, Minister, you get to be the government that chose to trust Harry Potter instead of trying to control him. You get to be the people who learned from Dumbledore's mistakes instead of repeating them. And most importantly, you get to not find out what happens when someone with my capabilities decides that the wizarding world's political establishment has become a threat to the people he cares about."
"Is that a threat, Harry?" Kingsley asked quietly.
"It's a statement of fact," Harry replied with unshakeable calm. "I will protect the people I love, Minister. I will protect them from dark wizards, from government overreach, from anyone who tries to use them as leverage against me or as pawns in someone else's game. That's not negotiable. The only question is whether the Ministry wants to be counted among the people I'm protecting or among the threats I'm protecting them from."
The silence stretched for nearly a minute, broken only by Teddy's happy babbling and the distant sound of garden gnomes debating agricultural policy.
Finally, Kingsley smiled—a genuine, warm expression that suggested he'd just made a decision that felt right regardless of its political implications.
"Right then," he said, rising from his chair with the decisive gesture of someone who had just committed to a course of action. "Harry Potter, cosmic-powered wizard and dedicated godfather, I hereby grant you official permission to live your own life without government interference."
"Can you actually do that?" Ron asked, blinking in surprise.
"I'm the Minister of Magic, Ron. If I can't grant someone permission to exist without bureaucratic harassment, what exactly am I good for?" Kingsley's smile widened. "Besides, something tells me that trying to control Harry Potter with enhanced reality-altering abilities would be the sort of political decision that ends with me explaining to the International Confederation of Wizards why our national hero has relocated to another continent and taken most of magical Britain's defensive capabilities with him."
Harry laughed, the sound carrying genuine warmth and relief. "Thank you, Minister. That's... actually much more reasonable than I was expecting."
"Harry, you've saved the wizarding world more times than anyone should reasonably be expected to. The least we can do is let you enjoy the world you saved." Kingsley paused, his expression turning more serious. "Though I do hope you'll keep in touch. Not for official monitoring purposes, but because... well, because I'd hate to hear about your adventures secondhand from the Daily Prophet."
"I can do that," Harry agreed. "Though I should warn you that my upcoming adventures are probably going to involve American agriculture, cosmic power management, and teaching someone else how to use reality-altering abilities without accidentally destroying important infrastructure."
"Someone else?" Percy looked up from his notes with sharp interest.
"Another heir to the same cosmic inheritance," Harry explained cheerfully. "Apparently my alien ancestor wasn't the only survivor of his people. There's another branch of the family tree living in Kansas, and they've got their own reality-responsive individual who needs training in proper superhero etiquette."
"Superhero etiquette?" Kingsley repeated faintly.
"Very important skill set," Harry assured him. "Covers everything from appropriate costume design to media management to the diplomatic protocols for explaining to concerned government officials why you accidentally melted a small building while learning to control heat vision."
"Heat vision," Percy muttered, adding another note to his increasingly comprehensive file. "Right. Just... try not to melt any important buildings while you're representing British interests abroad?"
Harry's grin was pure mischief. "Percy, I make no promises about the state of American architecture after I finish my consulting work. But I'll do my best to limit any structural modifications to buildings that weren't historically significant."
"That's... probably the best we can hope for," Kingsley said with resignation. "Just... try to remember that diplomatic incidents involving reality-altering abilities require an enormous amount of paperwork to resolve."
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry promised. "Though knowing my luck, I'll probably end up accidentally improving international relations through creative problem-solving that technically violates several treaties but produces results that everyone's happy with."
"Knowing your luck," Ginny said with fond exasperation, "you'll probably save the American agricultural industry, prevent three international incidents, and somehow make it look like a perfectly normal vacation with friends and family."
Harry bounced Teddy gently, earning a delighted giggle that made the air around them sparkle with tiny lights. "Sounds about right. Though I should probably mention that this particular vacation is going to involve flying to Kansas at several times the speed of sound while carrying a reality-responsive baby who makes the air sparkle when he's happy."
"Just... try to avoid creating sonic booms over populated areas?" Kingsley requested weakly.
"I'll fly high enough to minimize atmospheric disruption," Harry assured him. "Very considerate supersonic travel. Practically diplomatic, really."
"I'm sure it will be," Kingsley said with the tone of someone who had just realized that his job was about to become significantly more interesting. "Well then, Harry Potter, cosmic-powered wizard and diplomatic supersonic traveler, I wish you the best of luck with your American agricultural consulting adventure."
"Thank you, Minister. I'll try not to accidentally reshape any major geographical features while I'm there."
"Please don't," Percy said faintly, still writing notes. "The paperwork would be... extensive."
"Don't worry, Percy," Harry said with cheerful confidence. "If I accidentally create any new geographical features, I'll make sure they improve local property values."
As the meeting concluded and official handshakes were exchanged, Harry reflected that this had gone considerably better than expected. No threats of containment, no demands for government oversight, no attempts to conscript him into official service as a magical weapon of mass diplomacy.
Just a reasonable conversation between adults who understood that trust was more powerful than control, and that sometimes the best way to manage cosmic-level abilities was to simply let the person who possessed them make their own choices about how to use them responsibly.
It was, Harry thought as he prepared to embark on his American adventure, exactly the sort of outcome that Dumbledore would never have considered possible.
And that, more than anything else, convinced him he was making the right choice.
—
# Later that night
The problem with enhanced senses, Harry discovered as he stared at the ceiling of Charlie's dragon-scale-decorated room, was that they made sleep approximately as achievable as teaching a Hungarian Horntail to knit. Every sound in the Burrow—and there were considerably more sounds than any reasonable house should produce at midnight—registered with crystal clarity. Mrs. Weasley's gentle snoring from the master bedroom harmonized with Mr. Weasley's occasional mutterings about spark plugs. Ron's digestive system was apparently engaged in complex negotiations with dinner. George was moving restlessly in the twins' old room, and even the garden gnomes seemed to be conducting some sort of nocturnal political assembly that involved considerable squeaking and what sounded suspiciously like tiny protest chants.
Harry rolled over, trying to find a position that didn't make Charlie's bed creak like a ship in a storm, and immediately became aware of seventeen different magical signatures from the protective wards, the subtle hum of the Burrow's extension charms, and the distant electromagnetic signature of a Muggle radio that someone in the village had left on.
"Brilliant," he muttered to the darkness. "Cosmic awareness. The gift that keeps on giving, especially when what you want most is eight hours of blissful unconsciousness."
He'd tried counting sheep, but his enhanced mathematical processing kept calculating optimal flock management strategies. He'd tried meditation techniques from his cosmic education, but they required a level of mental quiet that was impossible to achieve when you could hear Mrs. Pemberton from the village having a very detailed dream about someone who sounded suspiciously like a certain cosmically enhanced wizard with excellent shoulders.
A soft knock on his door provided a welcome distraction from the comprehensive audio catalog of rural nighttime activities that his supernatural hearing was compiling without his permission.
Harry sat up carefully, noting that the knock had a particular rhythm that was both hesitant and determined—the kind of knock that belonged to someone who had spent considerable time working up the courage to be there but was absolutely committed to following through with whatever they'd decided to do.
"Come in," he called softly, though he suspected his enhanced voice would carry clearly regardless of volume.
The door opened to reveal Ginny, and Harry's enhanced brain immediately processed several pieces of information simultaneously: she was wearing what appeared to be his old Gryffindor Quidditch jersey—the one he'd been looking for before Bill and Fleur's wedding and had assumed he'd simply misplaced in the chaos of preparing to abandon his education in favor of Horcrux hunting. The jersey hit her mid-thigh, and given her height compared to his transformed proportions, it looked less like athletic wear and more like the world's most strategically designed nightgown.
She stepped into the room with the kind of determined grace that had made her such a formidable Chaser, closed the door behind her with deliberate precision, and slid the bolt with a soft click that sounded unnaturally loud in the midnight quiet.
"Finally," she said with the satisfaction of someone who had been planning this moment for considerably longer than the past few hours. "Do you have any idea how long I had to wait for everyone to go to sleep? Your enhanced everything apparently includes enhanced staying-awake-until-unreasonable-hours abilities."
Harry blinked, his cosmic-level intellect struggling to process the situation with its usual efficiency. "Ginny, what are you doing here? I mean, obviously you're here, in my room, at midnight, wearing my jersey that you apparently nicked last year when I wasn't paying attention, but what exactly are you doing here?"
Her smile carried the kind of wicked confidence that had always made his pulse do interesting things, though now his enhanced cardiovascular system's response was considerably more dramatic than it used to be.
"We've been apart long enough, Harry Potter," she said with the tone of someone who had made a decision and was prepared to defend it against all reasonable objections. "A month while you were off having cosmic adventures, months before that while you were saving the world and being noble and self-sacrificing, and a year before that while you were trying to protect me from your dangerous destiny."
She walked toward the bed with the kind of purposeful movement that suggested she had a plan and was absolutely committed to seeing it through.
"I won't be apart from you for one more day," she continued, reaching for the hem of his old jersey with movements that were both casual and deliberate. "Not when you're finally back, not when you're finally safe, and definitely not when you've been transformed into..." She gestured at him with obvious appreciation. "Whatever this magnificent version of yourself turns out to be."
The jersey came off in one fluid motion, revealing that her interpretation of appropriate midnight attire was considerably more minimal than Harry's enhanced brain was prepared to process without several moments of recalibration.
"Ginny," he said, his voice carrying a note of something that might have been warning or might have been wonder, "are you sure about this? Because I should probably mention that my enhanced everything includes enhanced... well, everything. And I'm still learning to control—"
"Harry James Potter," she interrupted with fond exasperation, settling onto the bed with the confidence of someone who had spent considerable time thinking about this moment and had reached certain conclusions about risk management, "if you think I'm worried about your cosmic enhancement abilities in this particular context, you clearly haven't been paying attention to my track record with dangerous situations."
She was right, of course. This was Ginny Weasley, who had faced down Death Eaters, survived possession by a fragment of Voldemort's soul, and had once hexed Zacharias Smith so thoroughly that he'd required medical attention and possibly some form of counseling. If anyone was equipped to handle whatever challenges might arise from romantic involvement with a cosmically enhanced wizard, it was someone with her combination of courage, determination, and practical experience with magical complications.
"Besides," she added with the grin that had gotten him through some of his darkest moments during the war, "I've been thinking about this for months. All those nights wondering if you were safe, if you were coming back, if we'd get another chance to be together without the shadow of prophecy and dark wizards and noble self-sacrifice hanging over everything we did."
Harry looked at her—really looked at her, with all the enhanced perception that his cosmic education had provided—and saw not just the beautiful, brave, impossibly perfect woman who had somehow decided that Harry Potter was worth waiting for, but the deeper truth that his new abilities allowed him to perceive: the absolute certainty in her magical signature, the way her presence seemed to stabilize something in his own enhanced energy patterns, the sense that this moment was not just right but inevitable.
"Are you going to keep thinking about cosmic responsibility and enhanced capabilities," she asked with mock seriousness, "or are you going to join me in this bed and let me show you exactly how much I've missed you?"
Harry's grin was pure happiness wrapped in cosmic confidence and very human desire. "When you put it like that, the choice seems fairly obvious."
"Good," Ginny said with satisfaction, pulling back the covers with the practical efficiency of someone who had clearly thought through the logistics of this particular adventure. "Because I've been planning this reunion for considerably longer than is probably healthy, and I have some very specific ideas about how to properly welcome home a cosmic-powered wizard with reality-altering abilities and excellent shoulders."
"Excellent shoulders?" Harry asked as he moved to join her, his enhanced grace making the simple action look like poetry in motion.
"Among other improvements," she confirmed, her eyes sparkling with mischief and appreciation and the kind of love that had survived prophecy, war, cosmic transformation, and all the complications that came with being in love with Harry Potter. "Though I'm hoping to conduct a very thorough evaluation of all your enhancements before morning."
"That could take considerable time," Harry pointed out, settling beside her with careful attention to his enhanced strength and the various ways he could accidentally break furniture if he wasn't paying attention to the physics of normal household objects.
"Harry," Ginny said, reaching for him with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she wanted and was prepared to take the time necessary to get it, "we have all night, we have privacy, and we have a years worth of separation to make up for. I'm not planning on rushing any aspect of this reunion."
Her kiss was warm and soft and tasted like coming home after the longest, strangest journey imaginable, and Harry's enhanced senses provided him with detailed awareness of her heartbeat, her breathing, the way her magical signature intertwined with his in patterns that created something neither could achieve alone.
"I love you," he said against her lips, the words carrying all the weight of cosmic truth and very human emotion.
"I love you too," she replied, her hands threading through his cosmically enhanced hair with obvious appreciation for its improved texture and impossible ability to catch light even in the darkness of Charlie's dragon-themed room. "Now stop talking about enhanced capabilities and cosmic responsibilities, and start focusing on the fact that we're finally alone, finally safe, and finally free to be together without anyone trying to kill us or save the world or manipulate our relationship for political purposes."
Harry's laugh was soft and warm and entirely human despite all his alien enhancements. "I can definitely focus on that."
"Good," Ginny whispered, pulling him closer with the determination of someone who had waited long enough and was ready to claim everything she'd been dreaming about during their separation. "Because I have a years worth of 'welcome home, cosmic superhero' demonstrations that I'm planning to share with you, and some of them are going to require considerable... attention to detail."
Outside Charlie's window, the village slept peacefully, the garden gnomes concluded their political assembly, and the Burrow settled into the quiet contentment of a house that held all its family safely within its walls.
And in a room decorated with dragon scales and faded Quidditch posters, two people who had survived prophecy and war and cosmic transformation discovered that some things—love, desire, the simple joy of being together—remained beautifully, perfectly human no matter how much the rest of the world insisted on being impossible.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there