In the Melancholy Moonlight, Part 4: Nebula

Chapter 191: We're Not Gonna Grow Up

LUCY:

The fact that Harry had remained so adamantly on the sofa, on the fringes of the group, bothered me as I tried to fall asleep that night. I had been happy to see him, and I had no doubt he had been happy to see me, but there was something I was missing. I opted not to ask him about it directly — I thought it might force him deeper into hiding than he already was. Maybe it was just the two weeks spent with the Dursleys taking its toll, he always needed a bit of time afterward to remember that he was in fact loved and welcomed in the wizarding world. Or... maybe it was the fact that he'd been demonized by the wizarding world from June 25, 1995 onward, and the tide was only just beginning to turn since everyone finally believed that Voldemort was back. Or perhaps it was a combination of the two. Whatever the reason, Harry hadn't seemed quite like himself, and I tried to stop thinking about it. Worrying about it wouldn't solve anything.

I was only marginally successful. I overheard Fred and George bickering in the back room over what was on my mind. Fred was convinced I was still in "Harry Land," as he called it, but George argued that I was upset about something. They were both right, in a sense, but George was closer to the truth. I tried harder to shove my worries away, and the twins (not knowing I had overheard their conversation) tried to distract me by throwing out absurd product ideas for me to shoot down. No, Fred, I don't think anyone would buy fire-breathing chickens, I think breeding those would be illegal anyway even though we unfortunately know it's possible. No, George, I don't think selling punching bags with Umbridge's face would go over well, she is still a Ministry employee and could cause problems if she heard about it. No, shut up, both of you, we are not putting Percy's face on the boxing telescope and rebranding it as "Punch-a-Prat."

6:00 arrived, and we closed up shop. I was restocking Shield Hats when I heard a too-familiar strangled yelp outside.

I placed the Shield Hat already in my hands on my head, grabbed another one with my left hand, and grabbed a handful of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder with my right before charging out the door in the direction of the disturbance.

Archie Graye was flying through the air. I followed his trajectory in reverse and spotted the person who had attacked him at once, a menacing young witch who looked vaguely familiar. I charged forward and tossed most of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder at her feet before rushing over to where Archie had landed flat on his back and practically smashing the Shield Hat on top of his head as I tugged on his arm.

"C'mon, c'mon, she'll be able to see again soon!" I shouted to him over the sound of her indignant shrieks and the jets of spellfire narrowly missing us on all sides.

Archie blinked and struggled to a sitting position. "Diggory?"

"Archie, now!" I jumped to my feet and dragged him up with me, running us both into the shop and launching the rest of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder into the street before slamming the door shut and stopping all of the fireworks with rapidly-muttered spells and a wave of my hand. I wanted the shop to appear closed and vacant, just in case. I whirled around and yanked the Shield Hat off of Archie's head so I could see his face better. To my horror, it looked even worse in the light of the shop than it had appeared in the dusky shadows of Diagon Alley, bruises blossoming under one eye and along one side of his jaw with a zigzag of abrasions crossing his cheeks. "Are you okay?"

"How do I know you're really — " Archie backed away and narrowed his silver-blue eyes at me. "What's something only the real Lucy Diggory would know?"

"You've fancied Cam Rivera since you were eleven years old," I replied.

"Twelve, but close enough. I'm the real Archie Graye because I know that your favorite Narnia character is Peter Pevensie."